Laudator Temporis Acti

Come, gie's a sang, Montgomery cried,
And lay your disputes a' aside,
What signifies't for folks to chide
  For what's been done before 'em?
Let Whig and Tory a' agree,        5
Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory,
Let Whig and Tory a' agree,
  To drop their Whig-mig-morum;
Let Whig and Tory a' agree,
To spend this night in mirth and glee,        10
And cheerfu' sing alang wi' me
  The reel o' Tullochgorum.

O, Tullochgorum's my delight,
It gars us a' in ane unite,
And ony sumph that keeps up spite,        15
  In conscience I abhor him.
For blythe and cheerie we's be a',
Blythe and cheerie, blythe and cheerie,
Blythe and cheerie we's be a',
  And mak' a happy quorum.        20
For blythe and cheerie we's be a',
As lang as we ha'e breath to draw,
And dance, till we be like to fa',
  The reel o' Tullochgorum.

There needs na' be sae great a phraise,        25
Wi' dringing dull Italian lays,
I wadna gi'e our ain strathspeys,
  For half a hundred score o' 'em.
They're douff and dowie at the best,
Douff and dowie, douff and dowie,        30
They're douff and dowie at the best,
  Wi' a' their variorum:
They're douff and dowie at the best,
Their allegros, and a' the rest,
They canna please a Scottish taste,        35
  Compar'd wi' Tullochgorum.

Let warldly minds themselves oppress
Wi' fears o' want, and double cess,
And sullen sots themselves distress
  Wi' keeping up decorum:        40
Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,
Sour and sulky, sour and sulky,
Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,
  Like auld Philosophorum?
Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,        45
Wi' neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit,
Nor ever rise to shake a fit
  In the reel o' Tullochgorum?

May choicest blessings still attend
Each honest open-hearted friend,        50
And calm and quiet be his end,
  And a' that's good watch o'er him!
May peace and plenty be his lot,
Peace and plenty, peace and plenty,
May peace and plenty be his lot,        55
  And dainties a great store o' 'em:
May peace and plenty be his lot,
Unstain'd by ony vicious spot!
And may he never want a groat
  That's fond o' Tullochgorum.        60

But for the sullen, frampish fool,
That loves to be oppression's tool,
May envy gnaw his rotten soul,
  And discontent devour him!
May dool and sorrow be his chance,        65
Dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow,
May dool and sorrow be his chance,
  And nane say, Wae's me, for 'im!
May dool and sorrow be his chance,
Wi' a' the ills that come frae France,        70
Whae'er he be, that winna dance
  The reel o' Tullochgorum!

14 gars: makes
15 sumph: fool
26 dringing: singing in a melancholy manner
27 strathspeys: Scottish dances
29 douff: dull
29 dowie: sad
38 cess: tax
47 fit: foot
61 frampish: quarrelsome
65 dool: grief